


Blessing of Yggdrasil

by Sumbril



Series: Child of Lost Time [1]
Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Depictions of Anxiety/Attacks, Did I Mention Angst?, Hero | Luminary is Named Eleven | El (Dragon Quest XI), Implied Sexual Content, Intersex Character, Luminary is Technically of Age, M/M, Major Spoilers, Mpreg, Mutual Blowjobs, Pregnancy, Second chapter is explicit, So much angst, Teen Pregnancy, Time Travel, post-game content, some gender confusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-02-13 03:04:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21487300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumbril/pseuds/Sumbril
Summary: Post-Game. Major spoilers for acts 2 & 3!Since taking on the mantle of Luminary, Eleven's been faced with an endless series of impossible decisions. Even after it seems he's fulfilled his role, destiny beckons and the world makes no shortage of demands upon his time. New light and new life take his own in an unexpected direction, and Eleven finds himself with more secrets than he knows how to keep.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI), Gemma/Hero | Luminary (one-sided), Hero | Luminary & Yggdrasil (Dragon Quest XI)
Series: Child of Lost Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548790
Comments: 40
Kudos: 77





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This is the start of the fic that has been consuming my life for months now. This is the prequel of what will be at least a two-part series, with the main fic taking place some time after this one ends. This fic is almost entirely background set-up for its sequel, the main story that is of yet, mostly plotted out and partially written but nowhere near done. This prequel though, is fully planned out and about half-written. That isn't to say updates will be swift, with a full-time work schedule and long commute times, and a brain that likes to write scenes out of order, but it's my hope that they won't be too far apart. I hope you enjoy!

_For a time, there by the sea  
There was only you and me_

* * *

Silence weighed over them like a blanket.

Eleven let his eyes drift closed, but in spite of the lethargy settling into his body, the twisting sense of everything left unsaid kept his mind from giving in. Inklings of guilt tugged at his heart, with regret swift on its heels.

"..C'mon." Lips against his shoulder. Erik shifted behind him and sat up.

Eleven missed his warmth immediately. He turned to reach for him only for Erik's skin to slip away from his fingertips. He could only watch as he pulled on his trousers, wondering if this was really it- the end of what was and may have been.

The words slipped from his mouth, unbidden. “Are you leaving?”

Erik stopped. 

"What?" he said with forced ease. "You're the one leaving, remember?"

Guilt clawed its way up his stomach. His eyes dropped, searching like he might find his conviction hidden within the folds of the sheets bunched at his waist.

Something soft collided with the side of his head and obscured his vision. Eleven pulled the trousers off his face to find Erik standing there with an outstretched hand and barely-there smile. Kind blue eyes shone with far more understanding than he deserved.

Eleven pulled his pants on and let himself be led outside.

The sun was setting on Saikiki beach. Waves rushed in, lapping at the shore and crashing against the cliff only to fade, then churn over once again. A harsh, yet soothing melody he'd grown used to over the past few weeks, comforting in its timeless certainty. Whether or not Yggdrasil fell, whether or not he vanished into another Time, the waves would still remain. Nothing could ever change that.

Erik chose a spot on the short cliff overhanging the beach, legs stretched out with his feet dangling over the ledge. Eleven joined him, wordlessly settling at his side. The breeze off the water was cool, but where their arms brushed, his skin was warm. Nothing felt different, save for that.

Something _should_ feel different, he reasoned, but it wasn't anything physical- only the knowledge that at any moment, he could simply lean over and kiss Erik if he so chose. That notion was new- as sweet as it was heart-rending.

Together, they watched the sun set.

"...I was thinking," Erik said what felt like hours later. The sun had begun to sink below the horizon, painting the sky a sharp spread of reds and oranges that faded seamlessly to purple and pinked the undersides of nearby clouds. "The past is just.. the _past_, isn't it? I mean, it's not going anywhere."

Eleven's eyes snapped to Erik's, the thought finishing in his head long before it was given voice.

"You don't- you don't have to go back _now_."

Eleven closed his eyes against the way his heart lurched, a longing so desperate that his chest physically ached with it. Though Yggdrasil had only ever shown him the past, he could see this as clearly as any vision:

_“One more day,” Erik would say with a smile that promised him everything._

_He'd hesitate, but one more day wouldn't hurt anything. Veronica, Serena, and the rest of the world could afford them that._

_They'd spend their relief and joy in bed, then wander out to the village proper. Spar, eat, talk with the locals and chat about what their companions were up to. A wonderfully bright day, but with the coming of dusk, a renewed plea._

_“One more. I mean it.” Words sweeter than any love song, slipping past his defenses and weakening his convictions. _

_The guilt of it would eat at him, but it's already been weeks. What was another day? The anxious edge of desperation in Erik's eyes would hold him, winding around his heart and dragging him down more surely than any mermaid's curse. He'd agree without meaning to, and start the cycle all over again. _

_At the end of every day, it would be that much harder to justify leaving. They'd spend an untold number of days lounging on the beach, learning each other and falling in love. Little by little, the desperate edge in Erik's eyes and voice would lessen. Before long, his pleas turned to soft requests and tired nods until he was so far gone that they simply stopped altogether._

_A lifetime of stolen days and a fading memory until he stood at Veronica's grave unable to promise anything._

Eleven's heart ached so fiercely that his fist gripped tightly at his chest, nearly doubled over with the pain of it. He'd already lost his soul to Mordegon's cruel hand once, but now softer, kinder fingers clawed for his heart. If only he could afford the luxury of giving it away.

"Hey-" Erik reached for him, voice tinged with alarm. "Are you okay?"

Yet still he wanted it- wanted it more than he's ever wanted anything. It would be so _easy_ to simply nod- so easy, if only he didn't know what it would cost. 

Eleven shook his head.

"I can't," he rasped, the words pulling themselves from the part of him still bound to destiny's machinations. "I _can't_. I can't stay. I can't."

"Okay," Erik was saying, syllables measured like he was still sounding them out, yet unclear on their meaning. "Okay."

The last time he'd felt this wretched, he'd just left Blue John's care on the Emerald Coast with an impossible decision to make. This didn't feel any different; he was still struggling against what he wanted with what was necessary.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, raising his head to meet Erik's tired eyes. "I'm so sorry."

Erik glanced off with a shake of his head. Arm stretched over his knee, he might have looked at ease if not for the curl of his fist and hard set of his jaw.

"It's fine," he said, head bowing. "I get it. You're the Luminary; the world needs you."

Pain so swift he couldn't identify the source tore into his heart, the sting of accompanying grief burning at his eyes.

"I want to," he swore, voice wavering. "More than anything."

"Then why?" Erik’s head snapped to him, and Eleven watched his expression tear itself between anger and upset. Hated knowing he was responsible for every flash of anguish that crossed his face, forced to listen as his voice softened to something lost and more vulnerable.

"_Why_?"

Eleven swallowed, wincing through the ache of it. Cleared his throat as though it would do anything for the grated quality of his voice. 

"You know why,” he said heavily. “Veronica. Serena. The Watchers. ...Thousands of others."

Erik sighed and tipped his head back to the sky above. Small pinpricks of light were beginning to shine through the growing twilight. That same weighted silence followed in their wake, seeming to stretch on for eternity as night began to settle over them.

"..Say you do all that," he said with a wave of his hand- like it wasn't something at all important; a minor detail on a long list of chores. Like it wasn't standing between them now, casting an impossible shadow over their past and immediate future. 

"You go back, save the world- _again_.. Is that going to be enough? Or is the Luminary's job never done?"

Serious blue eyes met his, and Eleven found himself arrested into silence, unable to do more than stare. Erik's brows narrowed as he leaned into his space.

"What I wanna know is: when do you get to decide to do what _you_ want?"

Eleven blinked down to the sigil on the back of his hand, followed the point of it to the fingers curling into scrub at his side. He hasn't been able to think that far; too preoccupied with the Timekeeper's warnings and how everything could still go wrong. Trying desperately to recall every moment of that day in order to better obsess over how he could fix it this time.

Jasper had come from behind them. All he had to do was get to him before he used the orb. The Sword of Light would surely be capable of breaking through his dark aura.

He breathed.

"I _need_ to stop Yggdrasil's fall," he said finally. "It should never have happened. After that.. I can reveal Mordegon. He'll be weaker without Her power. We can defeat him."

"And then what?"

Eleven searched Erik's eyes for several long moments. "Then.. I'll give us another chance."

It was the least he could do.

By degrees, Erik’s expression softened. His shoulders dropped, eyes closing over a heavy sigh, his voice giving way to weighted resignation.

"Promise me."

Eleven turned to find Erik watching him. He touched tender fingertips to his hairline, brushing back invisible strands behind his ear. Everything felt fragile; he'd miss the easy warmth of these gestures in only hours.

"I promise," he said, then shifted forward to seal it with a kiss. “Trust me.”

Erik made a sound in his throat, a grunt somewhere between pain and amusement. 

"Have faith in the Luminary," he murmured against his lips. "I got it."

Eleven drew back with a fragile, hard-won smile. "Thank you."

He resolved not to ask too much of Erik the second time around.

* * *

Later, sword in hand and moments from shattering Time's Sphere, Eleven understood there would always be a part of his heart that stayed there on that beach. A memory of crystallized Time serving not only as a reminder of a promise he needed to keep, but a quiet waypost of his life unobserved by the rest of the world.

The Sword of Light fell, shattered among the cracked sphere fragmenting at his feet in a burst of light. The distant echo of Erik’s voice called out to him and the bits of his heart that remained splintered just the same, slipping through his fingers and falling fast.

Reality vanished. In its place, a void of stars and flashes of memory. Time reversed, then snapped forward again. Unexplained warmth bloomed in his chest, a feeling like rapidly growing branches sprouting a curious sensation through his body. 

Yggdrasil registered muzzily in his mind, Her benevolence shining through a newfound joy. Life, old and new, returning to Her branches.

_A new leaf_, She told him as his consciousness began to fade. _My gift to you_.

* * *

_In a land that time forgot  
You uttered sweet forget-me-nots_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but it's only a prologue. Future chapters will definitely be longer.
> 
> Eternal thanks to the SoS discord, or I might never have finished let alone posted any of this!
> 
> I'm Sumbril on Tumblr if you're looking for me.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A celebration in Heliodor. Pressure, expectation, and love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, a week overdue! This chapter is a Long Boi. I think the others I have planned are in the range of 4-6k, but here's this monster over 8k. There was a Lot to cover. I debated splitting it up a couple different times. As mentioned in the tags, this chapter does contain explicit content. There's a pretty obvious lead-up, so feel free skip that whole section marked by hard lines if you'd prefer not to read it. I debated whether or not to include it for a good while, but ultimately it serves to establish a lot of things that will be more implicit in CoLT, so I kept it in. It will be the only sex scene in this particular fic. Hope you enjoy!

_Three months later_

With Calasmos vanquished and Yggdrasil's benevolent light shining unchallenged, the subsequent celebrations were inevitable.

Eleven only wished the official celebration were somewhere - anywhere - other than Heliodor. Too many sets of memories overlapped this place, blurring together more than any other place on Erdrea: he was arrested here, the castle torn down and overrun with monsters (only that’s not what happened). During this Time, Carnelian threw a feast in his honor, then watched him like one would a caged animal. He remembered spending the entire evening plagued by dread and a stiff, prickling sensation of the inevitable.

Echoes of those memories coursed along his spine, then along arms held stiffly at his side while his fingers twitched with their remains. Every inch of the open hall seemed suspect. Spears raised and metal helmets turning as he passed, the guards stood at attention in the same way they had while in service to a false king. A veil of ceremony for the underlying threat. His skin crawled with it.

If not for the sword strapped to his back, his companions trailing behind him, and the sense of obligation to see this through, he likely would have fled hours ago. Bile crept up his throat and threatened to upturn the contents of his stomach all over the pristine white robes given to him for the event. The gold trim and ostentatious Mark of Light flashed across his chest wouldn’t stand a chance.

Long before he was ready, the guards threw open the castle doors. He was marched into clear skies and open air where representatives from varying kingdoms awaited. He ducked his head in greeting, feet making their way forward as though compelled by a will not entirely his own.

Beyond the banister overlooking the Royal Plaza, a crowd of color milled about, heads clustered together in a low hum that did nothing to set him at ease. 

Carnelian didn’t waste a moment, arms raised in a sweeping gesture. “All hail the Luminary!”

The cheer rang out across the plaza in an echo comprised of a thousand voices. They crashed over his ears in a dizzying din.

A broad hand on his shoulder told him that he’d stopped, foot half a step back into Hendrik’s bulk. He breathed and straightened, met Erik’s eyes beside him and tried to replicate the tiny, encouraging smile carved into his lips. Anything over the colorless pall he was sure had been there before.

Eleven stepped forward, dogged by a notion of laying claim to a glory he didn’t truly deserve. He made it to the banister, and now visible to the crowd below, the cheers only increased in volume. From this distance, they wouldn’t be able to see how tightly he gripped the bleached stone beneath his palms, or the strain of the smile on his face.

“Honored Luminary,” Carnelian greeted with a look that seemed to know his every discomfort. “A few words, if you please.”

Though he felt incapable of anything of the sort, Eleven nodded woodenly and worked to recall the speech he’d given Before, months ago in a different Time. Arboria had been a more somber affair; victory intertwined with loss. There certainly hadn't been as many people staring at him, then.

But it seemed as though the entire world had shown up to this one. Alongside the nobles of Heliodor, he could make out the colors of various ambassadors: Gallopolis, Snifleheim, and even the purple togas of Arboria.

He swallowed and took a breath, willing strength into his voice.

“I.. I owe everything to my companions,” he said finally, the words ringing just as true now as ever. He prayed that his voice carried enough to be heard. “Without them, I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish much of anything.”

Murmurs swept the crowd. Once again, as though he’d deviated from some pre-arranged script no one had given him. Stone bit into his nails. He sucked in another breath, the weight of expectation as heavy as it had ever been.

"They supported me when the odds were stacked against us, and lent me their strength when mine failed.” Even now, as ever, he could count on them to intervene if he needed them to. For that, he could stand a little straighter. “They made me smile in a time where all seemed lost, and had faith in me even when I failed."

None of them may ever remember much of that turmoil, but he remained grateful all the same. Eleven raised his chin, looked out past the city walls in the direction he unerringly knew Yggdrasil shone.

"I want to thank everyone that supported us on our journey," he said, catching Carnelian's eye. "And may Erdrea be eternally blessed by Yggdrasil's light."

Cheers rang out again, but this time, his heart settled a beat. It was over- everything was over. Time was on his side once more, granting him the second chance he’d been waiting for. A promise he could finally fulfill.

Carnelian and the rest of the foreign dignitaries took over then, each taking a moment to say a few words about their role in aiding the Luminary, the hope brought to them in darker times they’d never truly known until it all blended together and the words became only strings of sound with no real meaning behind them.

He suspected it wasn’t far from the truth.

Once it was over, Carnelian had the throne room altered to suit the needs of the festivities rather than the more cramped space of the banquet hall. Long tables heaped with more piles of food than he’d ever seen in his life bracketed the hall. He’d thought to linger and seek Erik out, then perhaps find somewhere less crowded to catch up, but Heliodor it seemed had other plans for him. Hendrik tapped his shoulder, then escorted him up to the dais.

The throne had been removed, an ornate table in its place and plush seats designated for the royal denizens of each of the countries. He’d figured as much on first glance, but there was an extra seat not beholden to any country in particular.

“Here ye are, laddie,” Rab said, guiding him to sit at the end of the table directly across from Carnelian. Eleven sat, unease crawling up his throat in full force. A shadow hid in the wake of every practiced smile turned in his direction. Rab patted his hand and took the corner seat to his left.

“Now then, that’s all of us. Where were we?”

Conversation flowed around him. The state of each kingdom summarily discussed, assistance promised as needed, then petered off to local anecdotes. All the while, music played and people laughed somewhere out of reach. He avoided meeting Carnelian’s eyes with strategic scans of the crowd below, and soon found himself watching the small collection of foreign soldiers guarding the path to the throne with some amusement. Exchanging battle tips and wagers he’d guess, by the look of them.

A hand touching his arm drew him back to the present. “Ye all right, laddie? Lost ye for a second there.”

Eleven blinked to find every face at the table looking at him with varying degrees of skepticism and concern.

“S-sorry,” he stammered, face flushing. “I haven’t been feeling well lately..”

Rab nodded sympathetically. “Aye, lad’s been a mite peaky since Calasmos appeared. Nae wonder ye haven’t eaten.”

While it wasn’t exactly a lie, guilt tugged at him for the excuse even as the other royal heads appeared to accept the story. Like it was perfectly understandable that the Luminary would feel ill in response to the appearance of the Dark One.

...Maybe it was.

“Returning to the matter at hand,” Carnelian was saying. “I was hoping you would have some idea for a representative for Cobblestone at court.”

Eleven’s mind blanked. “Representative?”

He regretted speaking immediately. While he knew what a representative was, it certainly wouldn’t appear that way now.

Carnelian’s brows pinched. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Someone to represent Cobblestone’s interests.”

He swallowed. “I wasn’t aware we needed one. We’ve never had a representative before.” But he did vaguely recall Carnelian mentioning it Before.

Rab and Carnelian exchanged a glance. 

“From my understanding, the village is growing. I’ve received reports that not only has it finished rebuilding, but people from all over the world are making it their mission to visit the very same place the Luminary was raised. Very soon, Cobblestone will find itself in a unique position. And so it should have a representative to ensure smooth relations as it grows.”

Despite feeling that the explanation was about as plain as anyone could make it, Eleven still couldn’t say whether or not he understood the situation. But he was saved from having to ask further questions when Rab picked up the thread for him.

"Ordinarily, there wouldnae be any question that you would be that representative, but as Dundrasil’s future king, I’m goin’ tae be needin’ ye t’ help an old man rebuild.”

Whatever gratitude he'd felt swiftly renounced itself with a violent wave of nausea. Everything was too much. The noise, the smells, the looks- all of it. 'Future king’ rang through his ears at the expense of all else. He couldn’t breathe, and the pounding in both head and heart splintered its way to his throat. He only just managed to swallow down whatever incoherent yelling his tongue had worked up to.

“I-” He cleared his throat, brain scattering and voice muffled by the dull roar pounding its way through his skull. “I’ll give the matter some thought.”

Eleven stumbled out of his chair, hand braced to his head. “Excuse me, I need to..”

Unable to even imagine what he needed, he simply left. If anyone tried to stop him, he didn’t recall it or how he slipped away. He had no real idea of where he was going or why- just that he needed out. Nothing felt real; like he was drunk or else moving in a dream.

Just outside of wherever it was he’d found himself as he began to come to, someone was waiting for him.

A hand shot out from around the corner. Eleven took a reflexive half-step back, arm halfway to his sword, but his delayed reactions weren't quick enough to avoid being dragged from the main hall.

In the span of a blink, he found himself pressed into the front of a smaller, slighter body- one with blue hair and a sharp grin. The urge to fight left as quickly as it had come.

Erik. The sight of him brought everything back into focus. His heart rate settled. He could breathe again.

That familiar grin began to fall, brows creasing. “You all right?”

He swallowed and took a step back. “Better now that I’m out of there.”

Something like guilt crept into Erik’s eyes. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been trying to plot ways to steal you out from underneath everyone’s nose for over an hour now.”

He smiled for what felt like the first time all day. “I’ve been looking for you. I was hoping to catch up a bit.”

Erik cocked his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah? Great. Balcony was pretty clear last I checked.”

Eleven glanced about to regain his bearings, then nodded and let Erik lead him down mostly empty hallways. Only a few people lingered to spare them brief glances as they passed, but Erik kept up a running dialogue of the various re-tellings about their journey and a couple of the wild speculations he’d heard until they made it outside. 

As promised, it was fairly unoccupied.

The fresh air cleared his head as if by magic. He breathed it in then let it out with a sigh.

Erik leaned against the rail, managing to look comfortable and at ease in a way he could only ever envy. Eleven stepped up next to him, mirroring him as much as his taller frame would allow, and for several blissful moments, simply let the breeze wash over him.

“So,” Erik prompted after a minute of silence. “How are you holding up? You looked like you were kind of freaked out back there.”

Up here, the throne room seemed a world away- a problem he’d left behind. It was still there, but relegated to something he'd contend with at a later date. He glanced down at his hands.

“It was Rab,” he said with a gust of breath lost to the winds. “He wants me to..” He trailed off, lips twisting and unable to finish.

Erik caught on with a click of his tongue. “Ah. He did say he wanted to rebuild. Guessing it didn’t go over very well, though.”

Eleven shivered despite the rush of warm summer air. “He just said it like- like it was a matter of course.”

“But you don’t want to become king,” Erik surmised, more statement than question. 

Eleven winced and lowered his head. Somehow, the concept seemed even more outlandish than reincarnated, world-saving hero.

“What _do_ you want?”

In an echo of words spoken Before, they seemed all the more powerful and potent for it. He met Erik's eyes, something far beyond mere curiosity staring back at him.

“What did you want to do, before the whole Luminary business?”

“I..” Unable to hold Erik’s gaze, he glanced out over the city. The sun was setting, shadows creeping in between orange-hued buildings.

“I don’t know,” he confessed, eyes dropping to pick at the fine fabric covering his arms. That life felt like so long ago that it was difficult to remember what he’d wanted back then, just about two years ago now. He remembered being nervous about meeting a King, and worried that he’d be laughed out of the kingdom. “I thought I’d figure it out when I got back.”

But when he finally did return, the village was a blackened shell of its former state and he was a fugitive on the run from a kingdom governed by a possessed king. There was a point when he almost started to believe the rumors were true, that he'd only ever bring about the death of everyone close to him.

Beside him, Erik hummed a short note. He’d been there in both timelines- that never changed. “Well, you’ve got time now. Dundrasil won’t be finished anytime real soon.”

Eleven nodded, some of the pressure easing from his shoulders to hear it. He had time to figure it out. He hoped he had time enough to keep his promise, too.

“What about you?” he asked, though he had a good idea of what to expect.

Erik shifted, head tipping back to the sky in a gesture that made his heart clench. Three months later, and still he could replay those precious few hours over again like a vision of a memory he could revisit whenever he wanted.

“I’ve gotta go check on Mia,” he said finally, effectively confirming everything he’d already suspected. “The envoy from Sniflheim said she’ll be awake soon, if she isn’t already. Promised her a treasure hunt and tour of the world while we’re at it.”

His heart sank. That wasn’t anything he could compete with- and nothing he should even try compete with. Mia was Erik’s sister, and there was a great deal they needed to catch up on. He could be the one to wait this time.

“So I’ll spend a couple months doing that I think, working her around to the idea of enrolling in L'Academie. I’ve got the money now, and she deserves the opportunity to get a proper education- make something better of herself, you know.”

Erik scrubbed a hand through his hair and despite everything, Eleven’s heart warmed to see it. “Boy, that’ll take some convincing. But after that,” he shrugged, turning a smile on him. “Who knows?”

His breath caught. Hope bloomed in the wake of that smile to a wide open future full of possibilities.

“Erik,” he breathed, turning fully toward him. Goddess above, had his heart ever before beat this anxiously?

He watched him straighten a bit, eyes looking him over like he'd noticed something had changed. While he knew he had the upper hand with his knowledge of another Time, knew that Erik loved him enough to offer him comfort if nothing else, speaking about it still felt like a risk. His stomach clenched.

But he’d made a promise.

“I..” His voice cracked, and he cleared his voice with a wince. Mild amusement curved the corner of Erik’s mouth, waiting. The soft glow of the setting sun lent him an almost ethereal aura.

“..I think I might want to go to Lonalulu," he said instead of the heartfelt confession he'd begun constructing. Still, Eleven waited a breathless moment, trying to discern whether or not the town’s name held any inexplicable significance for Erik. 

If it did, recognition failed to show through.

Erik blinked, brows creasing. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Why’s that?”

He fought the urge to fidget. "I uh- one of the fishermen there invited me when my journey was over. ..I always thought it sounded nice."

Grinning, Erik propped his chin on his elbow, balanced on the stone rail without a care. “So you’re telling me that the _Luminary_\- a guy that could have anything he wanted, be anything he wanted- is going to give up a life of celebrity to become a fisherman.”

Eleven smiled a bit, uncertain. “I’d like to retire for awhile.”

Erik laughed shortly and shook his head. He straightened, smile going fond. “You’re really something, you know that?”

His heart fluttered, and now would be the time he might kiss him, if that’s what they were. Or perhaps that's how he should go about this, rather than muddle about with words that failed to properly convey feeling. They were close enough; it would only take a half-step forward..

"So, was there anything specific you wanted to talk about?"

Eleven blinked. 

"Yes," his lips said before he'd given them permission, then flushed. It only took a half-second pause for Erik to hone in on it.

"_Really_." Erik's brows rose, blue eyes sweeping over him in a look he would have missed the meaning of mere months ago, heating him from the inside out. Might have even thought he was joking, even if he did. Things _were_ different, now.

Erik leaned back on his elbows, head tipped back and sharp eyes watching him under a veneer of seeming disinterest. He knew from experience that this was Erik at his most deceptive; that despite his relaxed appearance, those eyes absorbed every detail like it was second nature.

“And what’s that?”

Unable to quite keep himself from tracing the languid slant of the body in front of him, Eleven wondered if he was imagining the invitation written there, the angles in which he could slot himself effortlessly into Erik's space.

He swallowed.

“...I wanted to apologize.”

Erik’s eyes flicked upward, dubious. “For what?”

..So much, actually. For leaving him, for deceiving him- deceiving everyone- but the words wouldn’t come. He’d thought they would, once he started. They’d flow like a river off of his tongue and everything would become clear, absolving himself of secrets and leaving him free to pursue whatever this was between them.

Instead he felt caught. It wasn't that simple- none of this was. He'd altered reality on such a scale so as to be nearly unbelievable.

"I..." He faltered. What could he say? He searched the expectation in Erik’s eyes, finding nothing and feeling lost. Where did he _start_?

“Hey.” That singular, soft word pierced through the nerves beginning to cloud over rational thought. His breaths settled, newly aware of the fingertips brushing over the side of his face. Erik held his gaze, thin brows creased over concern. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

His eyes dropped, nodding. His throat felt thick with emotion he couldn't adequately express. Erik's hand fell, then returned to the stone. Those eyes watched him, he knew, analyzing the gradual fall of the barriers between them.

Eleven took a breath and closed his fingers over the back of Erik's hand, not quite able to meet his eyes. "..I also wanted to thank you for being here. It- you mean a lot to me."

A wingbeat of silence fell, but when their eyes met this time, there was nothing more to say. All the questions swimming in Erik's eyes had only one answer. Eleven took that final, half-step forward into the space made for him and pressed all of his apologies and reassurances, affection and promises into the gentle slide of joined lips. Thrilled in the way Erik leaned into him seeming without a thought.

Really, what did it matter? They could start over on a clean slate and make new memories- just as Erik had once before.

Eleven's arm looped about Erik's waist and drew him close. He lost a hand to wild blue hair, then closed his eyes against the sunset and let the moment take him from everything else. Nothing mattered, so long as he could stay here like this. Nothing at all.

He breathed a sigh through his nose, head tipping to press his mouth more firmly to Erik’s. Slow-mounting joy unfurled like wings in his chest: feathered with sweetness and hope.

“Come home with me,” he murmured, words pressed between joined lips. “Just for a few days.” 

A puff of warm air met his request, and he cracked his eyes open to find something like regret playing over Erik’s features. He watched him draw back, eyes darting to the side. 

“I can’t,” he said with the air of a confession. “I’m supposed to be leaving with the envoy from Sniflheim tomorrow.”

Distantly, he could hear the sound of a gate closing. His heart shuddered with the finality of it.

Erik’s eyes darted up, then down, then back up again. A fleck of pink teased the seam of his mouth, then opened. 

“But.. you know,” he said, throat clearing and voice going a bit rough. “We still have tonight, if you want.”

Eleven blinked, cheeks beginning to warm near to burning.

The balcony doors flung open. Several nearby birds burst into flight. Eleven and Erik sprung apart.

Hendrik stood in the archway, golden armor gleaming. “So this is where you’ve been.” He stalked forward, heedless of the conversation he’d interrupted. “Luminary. Your presence is requested.”

Eleven’s lips parted, but no words came out. He glanced between both Erik and Hendrik, torn between obligation and the feeling of something left unfinished.

“...I’ll be there in a moment, Hendrik,” he said finally, turning back toward Erik only to find him shaking his head.

“You should go,” Erik said, eyebrow quirking. “I’ll.. see you _later_, yeah?”

Later.

Eleven held his gaze. A charged moment passed between them- silent understanding of a will to pick up their thread of conversation in a more private setting. His heartbeat echoed between his ears. 

Not trusting himself to speak, he simply nodded and turned to follow Hendrik back into the castle proper. 

The knight appraised him of his obligations as they went, bits of himself slipping away with every step further into gilded walls and threaded carpet. The Luminary probably shouldn’t have untoward thoughts, and so he resolved not to linger over the implications Erik had left him with while various dignitaries eagerly anticipated the chance to grate on his nerves.

He failed utterly.

The suggestive lilt of Erik's voice whispered to him during the lulls between melodies and breaths of mostly one-sided conversations. He really tried, but fielding questions about the future of Erdrea like he was some sort of divine prophet made it difficult to want to stay focused. The same, tempered answers came to his lips, meaningless in the same way the whole of it would soon pale in memory to the greater allure of later hours.

All he had to do was bide his time. There was nothing for it but to spend hours flipping between convincing himself to either side of his own internal debate over whether or not Erik was serious while he waited for the guests to begin to leave. 

(He sounded serious. What else could he mean? Or maybe he was reading too far into it.) 

By the end of the evening, he’d worked himself up into such a state that it didn’t hit him until he began to rattle off his own excuses to retire:

Erik would have _questions_.

And while he’d recovered from his initial surprise relatively quickly the first time, Eleven still didn’t relish repeating that particular conversation when they only had a single night to work with. It had taken them days to work through all the subsequent uncertainty and stilted conversation Before.

But it would be fine, he reasoned, smoothing sweaty palms down the front of his robe as he walked. It was late, the room would be dark, so all he had to do was lead things on a bit and keep Erik’s fingers from wandering too much. 

...Or at least fend off his questions until morning.

Eleven slipped down the hall to the guest wing, then skipped past his own room after a quick backward glance to ensure no one was watching or trailing after him. Erik’s door loomed, the twist in his gut working in direct contrast to the heat he’d kept carefully contained all evening.

No knocking, he decided, hand sliding down to the golden doorknob. If it was locked, he wouldn’t pursue the matter. Simply return to his own room and… resolve things differently.

The knob gave beneath his fingertips by degrees. He let out a quiet breath.

It wasn’t locked.

* * *

The door to his room cracked open, spilling a narrow beam of light across the floorboards.

A shadow stepped in, and Erik only had enough time to recognize the silhouette for what it was before the door closed with a gentle click and the room was once again engulfed in darkness. The whisper-soft snick of the lock proved somehow twice as suggestive than his original invitation.

Like he couldn’t leave if he wanted to.

Like this was all a part of _his_ plan and had nothing at all to do with how long he’d lain staring at the door in the dark, praying to hear a soft knock from the other side.

Quiet footfalls betrayed the slow-moving shadow. Erik eased himself up and let his feet touch the floor, held his breath as his pursuer closed the distance between them. Blood stirred in his veins and pumped between his ears in an echo of his heartbeat. 

Foreign fingertips prodded at his chest, then made their clumsy way up to his shoulder. Eleven’s eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, but Erik could see the outline of him- a midnight blue shadow in the closening dark. 

Like something out of a fable, he mused with a slow grin. Otherworldly temptation, some might say. 

His skin prickled with it, a tell-tale tingle spreading through his lower abdomen to concentrate somewhere lower. “And here I was thinking I’d have to wine and dine you first.”

A thready laugh sounded somewhere above his head. Warm hands settled over his skin, on his neck, a thoughtless thumb brushing over his jawline and accompanied by a soft voice he only ever dreamed about. “If we had more time, perhaps.”

Some of his cheer faded, the reminder a weight sinking into his gut. 

“Yeah,” he said roughly, stomach turning. But there was something to be said about a time crunch, if this newfound boldness was anything to go by. He reached up for silken strands, twining his fingers through them and tugging him down. “Well, let’s make the most of what we’ve got.”

The shadow’s breaths quickened, soft puffs of air warm on his face and smelling faintly of whatever wine he’d last consumed. They shifted closer by increments until finally, their lips met. And once El had him, he didn’t stop. The soft kiss turned firm against his lips, then insistent. Pushing him back, pushing him down, and crawling over him exactly like the sort of vitality-draining spirit he’d likened him to.

He went fully willing, grabbing fistfuls of cloth until the looming shadow ceded to his demand and let him pull that Luminary-forsaken mantle over his head. Erik spared a brief thought to go for the shirt underneath while he was at it, but then Eleven was on him again, tongue sliding between his lips- and all right, that was good, too.

“Erik,” Eleven broke off, voice heavy with an air of confession. “I want you.”

Mother of Yggdrasil, but that just wasn’t at all fair.

The muscles in his stomach leapt under the slide of Eleven’s fingers, pulling a lip between his teeth when they dared to venture lower. Erik loosed a careful breath, already losing himself to the way heat seemed to follow in the wake of every one of Eleven’s touches. 

“Guess we’re really doing this, huh?”

Those fingers stopped, uncertainty creeping in. “..If you want.”

Erik’s lips split in a grin, body shifting into his touch. Who knew that the great Luminary would be so easily won over by a slip of a proposition when he could barely look a bunny girl in the face?

“Yeah.”

The thing of it was, he’d expected this to go a lot differently. Assuming it went at all, Erik imagined he’d be the one guiding El through his paces, trying not to spook him by moving too fast. But Eleven touched him with a certainty he’d never imagined, gripping him through his underwear and palming him to full hardness like they did this all the time.

Like Erik was just one in a long line of lovers Eleven had taken.

Only that was impossible, because they shared a room or a tent more often than not, and by nature, thieves slept light. If the guy was having secret rendezvous in the night, he definitely would have noticed.

But he quickly shelved that entire line of thought in favor of shifting and twitching toward the deliciously warm breaths ghosting over his newly exposed dick. He was rewarded by warm lips and slip of a tongue, tasting him then drawing back, suddenly shy.

Wrong, he thought dazedly, as Eleven shifted his weight about and tried to take him into his mouth a few different ways over. He’s definitely never done _this_ before. 

Goddess above, but he didn’t need to be any good at it to feel like he was losing his mind. Erik grunted and gripped the sheets beneath his hands until his knuckles felt ready to pop out of his skin, then lost a hard breath to the slick slide of saliva. Desperation built fast and spread like wildfire to consume every shred of control he had over his limbs and lips.

The man would be his undoing, things like patience and tenderness swiftly losing their appeal in the wake of all-consuming lust.

If this was a test, he was failing fast. 

“Straight to hell,” he concluded breathlessly to the murky ceiling above and heavens beyond it.

He couldn’t care less. If Yggdrasil didn’t want Her precious Luminary corrupted, She shouldn’t have given him a mouth capable of anything more than looking pretty. Shouldn’t have made him _human_\- warm and solid and touching him like something precious.

He should tell him to stop, the tiny, rational part of his brain observed, just shy of hysterical. 

“E-El…” he tried, mouth proving rebellious and unwilling to form the required syllables. “I…”

Holy hell, he should not be this easy, but fuck if he wasn’t enjoying every second of it. The Luminary, on his knees, sweet lips warm and wrapped around his-- That tiny, reasonable part of his brain Sizzled out of existence, the remains of his resolve set ablaze like so much tinder.

_“Fuck!”_

He lost time to the crash, burning hot and burning _out_, then free-falling through a blank nothingness beyond.

Awareness ticked back by degrees: his breaths through a fading haze, the gradual loosening of the sheets beneath his fingers. El shifting on the bed, blindly crawling up his body. 

“Nice,” he slurred thickly, offering his looming shadow a lazy smile. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

El met him with a low hum. “I’ve wanted to try it for awhile.”

_That_ kicked his brain into slightly higher gear. “What- really? For how long?”

Fingers found his chest and skated down to his stomach like one might stroke a cat. “...A few months, now.”

That took a few moments to process, half-convinced he’d fallen into a post-orgasm dream. _Months._

“Wh- why the hell didn’t you say anything?” He definitely would have leapt at the opportunity.

A breath caught above him, wayward fingers curling over his abdomen. “..Well, I’ve been sick, so...”

He grimaced. Yeah, fair. Still, a part of him couldn’t help but feel a bit cheated. 

“Well,” Erik said, after a beat. He propped himself up to grin into El’s breathing space. “Now it’s my turn. C’mere.”

He leaned up just as El leaned in, and a new flavor on partner’s tongue told him everything he needed to know.

“Man,” he said, half-laughing as he shifted up and worked El down to the mattress. “And everyone thinks you’re some kind of saint.”

El laughed a short, breathless sound, and dragged them both down.

Erik went with ease, tugging up the guy’s shirt as his hands sought out every available inch of exposed skin. A curious, roughened patch in the center of El’s chest teased the edges of his memory in an attempt to place it, but even when he traced the starburst shape of it with his tongue, nothing answered. His fingertips rained over El’s bare stomach and lingered there for a brief moment to map out a subtle swell that had never been there before. Good to know all the various feasts over the past week or so were finally doing the guy some good after he’d been ill for so long.

More pressing in the moment however, was the hard line of darker cloth standing out against blue-shadowed skin. He tucked his fingers under the waistband of both layers and dragged the whole of it down, then _off_ and onto the floor where every single stitch of it belonged.

He let his fingertips skim along El’s leg, smirked when he felt his knee jump as they passed, and then- oh. _Oh._

“_Hello,_” he said, fingers wrapping around a length he’d bet would give most guys a run for their money. It strained hot against his palm. “Where have you been hiding _this_?”

Eleven answered him with a series of strangled noises somewhere between pleased and embarrassed. But that was fine, Erik decided, swallowing him down. He had a lesson to teach. 

El hissed a breath and clawed for him with short, scraping nails. Knees came up either side of him, and Erik grabbed for his hips before he could start bucking too hard.

“_Erik_,” his name a broken prayer in the dark, packed with a will to do anything to have it answered. The Luminary himself, brought low and desperate by his own hand. “I need..”

Yeah, he’d bet he did.

Erik surfaced with a wet pop, felt Eleven’s hips twitch with it and would bet good money the guy could get off in a few creative ways if he put his theories to the test. For now though, he shelved them as ideas for another time and fantasies he could bring with him on the road until then. He licked his lips and braced his forearm over Eleven’s hips, then bore down on him again with a hand free to roam.

His fingers stroked over Eleven’s inner thighs and rubbed over the part of him he couldn’t take into his mouth, then dipped lower and felt.. something. Smooth and wet, and not at all what he expected to find. The body beneath him froze.

“Don’t.”

Erik’s hand jerked away. He raised his head and knew by the subtle, ever-present light in Eleven’s eyes that he was looking straight at him. “El, what-”

“Don’t-” Eleven said again before he could even begin to ask. “Just.. I can explain tomorrow. But for now... please.”

Erik’s brows rose. He swallowed, and while his natural instinct was to get to the bottom of a withheld secret immediately, it wasn’t difficult to tell by the urgency in Eleven’s voice that whatever it was, he wasn’t comfortable talking about it.

Everyone had something to be insecure about, he supposed. Even heroes.

“All right,” he conceded, pressing reassurance into the skin of Eleven’s lower abdomen with a kiss. “I won’t. You good?”

“...Yes,” came Eleven’s voice like an afterthought- as though he’d nodded then momentarily forgotten he wouldn’t be able to see it. “Sorry. It’s- I’m okay.”

He waited until the tension in Eleven’s legs had relaxed to lick a stripe up his cock. Gratified to find it still hard and aching for him, Erik turned his attention back to the task at hand.

El begged beautifully, voice low with an edge of a whine in his throat. One day, he’d find out just how desperate he could get him, but for now, he’d settle for the sharp rasps of breath he received as he drove him closer to the edge, and the way his entire body picked up a faint tremble beneath his hands. Erik raised himself up, sucking in short, powerful bursts and felt the exact moment Eleven splintered apart beneath him.

Easy, to swallow everything down. Too easy. Not a lot to work through and not very thick, but if the softening dick in his mouth and heavy breathing was anything to go by, then he did just fine.

Erik released him, then crawled up the bed to kiss clumsy, parted lips. 

“Wanna go again?” he asked, grinning into his new lover's ear. “I’ve got some loobricant in my bag if you’d be up for letting me ride you.”

Morning dawned soft and slow. Erik blinked the haze of it out of his eyes, mind alert before he really had time to enjoy it. But at least he wasn’t waking up alone.

Eleven was a vision: morning light illuminating him in a way he’d swear was deliberate. Head turned on the pillow and eyes closed, his hair wild in a way it never was when he was awake. His breaths fell warm and soft between slightly parted lips. Yggdrasil may as well give him a halo. 

...Or not, he grinned, spotting telltale bruises sucked into his neck and shoulder. Not after last night, anyway. He shifted closer and pressed a soft kiss to deliciously pink lips. His fingers wandered over a pale arm, chasing its warmth under the covers where his body positively radiated heat.

He should probably find out what time the envoy was leaving exactly. But it was still early, and if this was the last chance they’d have for awhile, he’d rather make Frysabel wait around while he convinced Eleven into waking up for round three.

Short, sharp knocks stopped his fingers from questing any further. It sounded a little too far away to be looking for him specifically, but the room next door belonged to--

“Luminary!”

Erik winced and spared a curse in Hendrik’s general direction. He looked back to El and found bleary blue eyes blinking open beneath creased brows. _Shit._

“Fuck off!” he yelled at the door, as though he had any hope in discouraging a knight on what he guessed was a king-sent directive.

The knocks did pause for a moment, then swiftly resumed. Beside him, Eleven was starting to sit up. He watched him drag a hand over his head and through his hair, frowning like he was suffering through the worst wake-up call of wake-up calls.

He felt for the guy.

Erik heaved a sigh. “You could ignore him.”

Eleven scrubbed a hand over his face. Months and months of travel and he had yet to greet the morning with anything other than disdain. He’d sleep til noon if they let him.

“He won’t leave,” Eleven said finally, resigned. As if on cue, the knocking came again and he shuffled to the other side of the bed.

“I’m coming!” he called out, visibly agitated as he reached to pull on his clothes.

Bold, but well, Erik supposed there was no hiding which room he came out of anyway. Not unless he counted phasing through walls among his many abilities.

Chased by the feeling of living on borrowed time, he intercepted him at the door.

“Hey,” he said, meeting his eyes. “..You know I’d stay if I could.”

El blinked, a wry smile working over his lips. “I know. I understand.” 

He winced and watched Eleven’s jaw clench as Hendrik’s pounding came again. He’d give anything to be able to steal him away for as long as he’d let him. 

Or maybe murder Hendrik, frame someone else, and convince Eleven back to bed. He'd settle for that.

“ ...When are you leaving?”

Erik shrugged. “Gotta go find out, I guess.”

He followed Eleven’s eyes down his naked body, then met his gaze and cocked his hip. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get dressed first. Just..” He worried his lip a moment, noticing how Eleven held the mantle with his gold, flashy symbol over his arm rather than put it on.

“You deal with Hendrik, then I’ll let you know somehow before we leave, okay?”

El nodded, and Erik sealed the deal with a quick kiss. “This isn’t goodbye just yet.”

Eleven drew his shoulders up, face masking over with an expression like he was about to enter a war zone. Erik stood aside, and watched him disappear into the hall, not at all prepared for the door to close.

His heart beat a rapid pace in his chest, and for several moments even after familiar voices picked up in the hall, Erik struggled to tamper down the urge to run out after him- nude or not. For some reason, it felt like he was losing him again.

..Again?

He shook himself and ran a hand through his hair. He’d see him again. Definitely.

It wasn’t until he was halfway through redressing that the feeling he was forgetting something finally resolved. Erik swore loud and long into the folds of his shirt as he pulled it over his head. 

He’d forgotten to _ask_.

* * *

Carnelian arranged for a private meeting.

The Luminary sat across from him with Hendrik guarding one door behind him, and the other blocked by Jade herself. Both were companions of the Luminary, and yet held their own loyalties to Heliodor. It was a rather deft maneuver in his opinion.

While the Luminary himself maintained a sufficiently blank expression, Carnelian had spent too long reading similar expressions of various delegates to be fooled. The child’s eyes carried in them unease, shoulders drawn up as though he expected a fight.

Distrust, he read with an inward sigh. Well, he could hardly blame him.

He reached for his teacup and watched as the Luminary failed to follow suit. Discomfort. There were a dozen ways to broach the topic of course, but each of them looked less likely to succeed the more he observed the boy himself and the futility of his various arguments became more readily apparent.

Neither guilt, pressure, flattery, threats, nor sympathy would get him very far- particularly when the boy already seemed set against him. Tired eyes that remained quietly patient as he awaited a lecture, but with the sole intent of participating and absorbing as little of it as possible. He was at that age, after all.

_I fear I may not be of much help, old friend._

"Lord Robert tells me you don't feel suited to rule."

It wasn't an angle he was expecting judging by the way the boy's eyes regarded him with the wariness of someone searching for a trap.

"I don't."

Carnelian hummed and nodded. "And why is that? You've saved the world once already. Running a kingdom isn't quite so dire as all of that."

He received a flat look for his trouble.

"I wasn't born int-" The boy grimaced, and Carnelian understood with sudden clarity why Robert was having so much trouble with him. "..I wasn't _raised_ into royalty."

Carnelian mulled that over for a moment, then looked past him to the door. "Whatever you don't know could be learned."

The boy's expression pinched. He fell silent and stared placidly at the tablecloth. While it was heartening not to field an immediate dismissal, neither did the outcome of that particular argument look terribly promising. If nothing else, he could say he'd succeeded in getting the boy to consider it. Carnelian sipped his tea while he waited.

"..I understand what you're trying to do," the Luminary said finally, weary.

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

The boy was losing patience by the look of him; jaw shifting. His eyes closed, brows furrowing as though mustering the remains of his composure.

“‘We must confer upon the Luminary the strength to lead us all,’” he recited, eyes opening over a short exhale. Resignation weighed heavily in both. “But my strength is spent."

Cold froze in his chest and spread rapidly through the rest of his body. Those were.. His own words, spoken at the Colloquy as it adjourned sixteen years ago. He might not have remembered them if he’d been aware for all of those sixteen years, but the meeting and the attack on Dundrasil- the Luminary’s birth- all remained in recent memory.

It seemed the Luminary was quite aware of that fact.

“But you were a mere babe in arms when that meeting took place,” he argued, composure fraying with every word. “How could you possibly..?” An impossible thought crossed his mind, but it was swiftly stamped out when the Luminary answered.

“I was there the day Dundrasil fell,” he said, eyes lowering. “If only as a memory.”

Carnelian’s heart raced, and he struggled to regain his composure beneath the sea of questions threatening to dismantle his focus. “...So you know, then.”

Eyes that have seen too much stared steadily back at him. The weight of his conscience threatened to collapse.

"..I don't have the strength to lead a kingdom," he said finally. "Much less the world."

Carnelian sighed, head shaking, and stroked a few fingers over his beard. "Perhaps if we had supported you sooner.. Well, no matter. You have made your position clear. I only ask that you consider it. You are Dundrasil's only heir, and matters of succession are quite serious affairs. There will be a Colloquy held here in eight month's time. You may make your decision then."

The boy made to answer, but the door burst open behind him. Hendrik caught a knight by the shoulder before he made it further than a few steps.

“M-my deepest apologies, sire,” the knight stammered, eyes searching then finding their target. “Master Erik urged me to tell you that the envoy from Sniflheim is making ready to depart.”

The Luminary was up out of his seat in a flash of movement. Belatedly, he turned back, looking only vaguely apologetic- as if it only just occurred to him that leaving in haste would reflect poorly.

“I will give the matter due consideration,” he said in an echo of words he’d spoken the night before. “I appreciate your understanding.”

He approached the intruding knight with thanks and offered Hendrik a nod before taking his leave.

Carnelian sighed and rested his forehead against his fingertips. “I’ll have to relay my apologies to Lord Robert,” he lamented. “The boy is willful and no doubt resolute. He shall be most disappointed. …But there are other matters we need to discuss. Jade, Hendrik, the Colloquy is not the only thing long overdue.”

* * *

Eleven pelted down the corridor, all thought for formalities and dignity flying in the face of the desperate need to catch Erik before he left. The guard’s instructions led him out of the castle and outside the rings of the city itself where a small procession of blue, white, and orange-clad soldiers moved about, relaying orders and checking supplies.

He only had eyes for one man.

Erik’s eyes opened to a wealth of relief, and Eleven moved for him instantly. He embraced him without hesitation, not caring at all for the eyes that might be on them or what they might think. Only the tension in Erik’s shoulders told him the gesture was unexpected, though not unappreciated as his arms came around him in turn.

He breathed, working to convince his heavy heart that this time would be the last.

They drew back and he watched Erik’s eyes skate over him, taking in his traveler’s clothes with a lift of blue brows. “Going somewhere?”

Eleven nodded, shifting in place. “Mum and Gemma sent a letter. They’re meeting me back in Cobblestone.”

“Well that’s good, I guess.” Erik said, frowning. He ran a hand through his hair. “…I’d ask you to come with me..”

Eleven smiled. His heart yearned to accept, if only it were a real invitation. “‘Just you and me’,” he recalled. Erik had promised Mia that. “I remember.”

“Yeah..” Erik sighed, thrusting his hands into his pockets and leaning back on his heels. “She probably wouldn’t mind too much, though. You were the one that- well, we kinda owe you one.”

He shook his head. “You’ve done more than enough for me. I know it’s important that you have time to.. To reconnect.”

A sharp whistle from the head of the caravan signaled time was running out. It always was, these days. 

Erik spun on heel, looking on the edge of something before it settled.

“So hey, after I..” He scrubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, it might be awhile, but maybe after Mia’s in school, I could drop by Cobblestone- or Lonalulu. Or wherever. If you want.”

Despite everything, Eleven laughed, heart warming. ‘Wherever’ sounded nice. 

“Yes,” he said, smiling. It would be hard to stay in contact if they were both traveling, but he felt sure they’d cross paths again, no matter what. Destiny was his own to command, now. Or it would be. “Come find me.”

Erik nodded, expression lighter and body looser than before. “I will.”

And just like that, there didn’t seem to be anything more to say. Erik shifted, glancing briefly over his shoulder, then held out a hand. “..All right, well, I guess this is goodbye for now.”

Eleven took it, the distant gesture feeling strange after the more intimate liberties they’d already taken with each other. But he supposed it probably wouldn’t be appropriate to kiss in front of the Queen of Sniflheim and her Royal Guard.

“Goodbye for now,” he agreed, nodding.

Erik smirked, looking him over one last time before heeding a call from the procession. He lifted a hand in parting and something like a promise.

Eleven watched him go from the gate, feeling like perhaps there was more he should have said or done, but unable to think of what that might be. Or like maybe he should run after him anyway, send a letter back to Mum and Gemma that he was needed somewhere far to the north.

But they would see each other again soon, he’d make sure of it.

And this time, they would be able to pick up the threads of where they left off like nothing had ever forced them apart to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As alluded to the in tags, El is intersex in this fic so in this particular case, his anatomy is a bit different. He only discovered that he's different in that way very recently in Lonalulu, so it's a whole thing. More on that next chapter. Also thanks canon for making me write El hung ffs.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed. It's all downhill from here.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disturbed peace, a difficult conversation, and coming to terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me! But no, I'm so sorry this took me 5 whole months to complete. I appreciate everyone that's so much as thought about this fic in that time, because I definitely haven't abandoned it. Life's been full of ups and downs lately. Another 8k- nearly 9k monster, though. Hope you enjoy, and special thanks to AnyTaintedCreature for beta'ing this thing!

They were waiting for him at the village gate. 

Gemma wore a bright smile while his mum blinked back tears like they hadn’t seen each other only months ago. Fondness rolled through him, familiar and warm, and Eleven stepped into welcome embraces long overdue.

“I’m home,” he assured the start of his mum’s deep, halting sniffles.

Beside them, Gemma beamed. “Welcome home.”

Handing off Appolina’s reins to a stablehand, he let Gemma take his hand and lead him into the village proper.

Cobblestone was beset by decoration.

A spread of colorful banners bearing his mark wove in a gentle breeze as though offering a languid welcome of their own. Lights strung between houses, twinkling in the growing dusk to illuminate rich fabrics laid over patches of stone wall.

He turned questioning eyes back on the pair, and found Gemma’s expression turning shy. Her hands folded behind her back, scuffing the dirt path with the toe of her boot- a habit she’d picked up in recent years.

“So, how do you like it?”

Eleven spared a brief glance to his mum’s encouraging smile, then turned to take it all in.

Everything looked… the same. As if he’d never left. As if he’d stepped back into a time where _Cobblestone_ had never fallen. 

Simple houses stood rooted in their stone foundations like they’d simply never thought to move. Rooftops covered almost fearlessly in turf, as though there had never been any reason to change. Absent of any evidence that the village had ever been a fortress. In its place, a timeless sense of peace both foreign and familiar.

“I… didn’t expect to see it finished so quickly,” he said finally.

“Everyone worked hard,” Gemma returned with an undercurrent of nerves he’d never heard before. “And thank the spirits for that. I worried we wouldn’t finish in time.”

He blinked, brows furrowing. “‘In time?’”

Amber laughed. “Didn’t think we’d go and forget about your seventeenth birthday in all the excitement, did you?”

The world slipped sideways in that curious way it always did whenever his knowledge didn’t match up with someone else’s version of events.

Two years. It had been _two years_ since he’d first set out on his journey. He’d lost a year to a time that no one else remembered. To his mum and Gemma and everyone else, he’d only journeyed for a year. Not eighteen years old, but seventeen. While it wasn’t a significant difference in the grand scheme of things, it was yet another detail to file away under things he needed to remember.

“...Elly?” Gemma’s concerned face popped into his field of view,

Eleven came back to himself with a quick shake of his head.

“I’m fine,” he said, the words automatic after months of fielding similar concern from his companions. “..Sorry, Mum. What were you saying?”

She gave him an appraising look. “..Well, I was just going on about how we’d asked the King to schedule the whole to-do up at the castle so we could have you back in time to celebrate. ..Are you sure you’re alright, love?”

Eleven nodded, settling on a small smile. That was all too much trouble to go to for a small village to call everything off, even if he would have preferred a day to rest. If nothing else, it was still _Gemma’s_ birthday. 

“..Is there anything I can do to help?”

Amber’s eyes crinkled. “Oh no, dear. You’ve only just returned. You deserve a chance to enjoy yourself. Here, I’ll take your things, then the two of you can run along to greet all of your hard-working well-wishers.”

Though he’d much rather go home and climb into bed, Eleven handed over his bag and resigned himself to spending another handful of hours managing polite conversation.

Gemma simply smiled at him, fidgeting with her apron.

“Actually, you go on ahead. I’m going to get cleaned up a bit first, then I’ll meet you there, okay?”

Before he could think to protest, she was already over the bridge and away, blonde hair flying behind her as she made her way back home. Eleven briefly considered ducking back home to do the same, but wasn’t certain he’d muster the willpower to get back up again if he took the time to relax. Running a hand through his hair, Eleven steeled himself and made his way toward the first strains of music beginning to echo off the cliff sides.

As expected, the party was a modest affair. No long tables, gilded carpets, or fancy dresses to speak of- just some lights, music, food and drink with people he’d known most of his life.

A heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder. “‘Ey there, Champ.”

...Well, mostly anyway.

Eleven turned with a polite smile and drummed up what was left of his courtly manners.

“Underdigger,” he greeted and nodded when he spotted the MMA fighter’s partner coming up on his side. “Showman. Thank you for agreeing to come here and help in my stead.”

Underdigger scratched the back of his head, managing to look sheepish despite the mask covering his face. “Nah, mate. We was glad to do it, weren’t we, Kev?”

The Showman- or Kev?- nodded vigorously. “Now’sh we can open our shopsh and shee which of ush ish besht.”

Eleven stopped a grimace before it began and quelled the urge to wipe his face.

“Shops?” he asked instead. “You’re staying here?”

Underdigger’s arms crossed. “If that’s a’right with you. Hear Octagonia’s rakin’ it in good with the fancy new casino. No need for us there anymore. ...Thing I don’t get is, ‘ow we was gettin’ ready for the tournament one day, an’ the next there’s an ‘ole bleedin’ casino ain’t no one’s seen before.”

Eleven swallowed, nerves scattering through his fingertips. That’s right; it hadn’t been there until the monsters invaded that Octagonia’s attraction had been transformed, but though he’d gone back through Time, a small part of that shadowed world lingered there.

“..Sorry to hear about the tournament,” he said before he could think too long on how there were some things that may not be as they should. “You’re welcome to stay, of course.”

“‘Preciate that.” Underdigger’s head moved up and down in what looked like some sort of assessment. “In the meanwhile, call if you’se need anyfin’ eh, Champ?”

“Ah,” Eleven faltered, shifting. “Yes, thank you.”

“There you are!” The booming voice of someone spotting their target sounded behind him, closing in fast.

Eleven spun around to find Dunstan sporting twin tankards and heading straight for him. “About time you joined us.”

He turned back to the MMA fighters only to spot them already beating a retreat toward the buffet table. His heart fell, and found himself forced to accept the tall mug thrust into his hands.

“And there’s plenty more where that came from!” Cobblestone’s mayor gestured toward the barrels stacked nearby. He couldn’t help but notice that they all bore Heliodor’s crest. 

Cobblestonians might have a large capacity for forgiveness, but Eleven found it would take more than a few barrels of ale to win him over.

He sighed into his ale and followed as Dunstan trotted just ahead of him, chattering all the while.

“King Carnelian’s been a right help getting Cobblestone back on its feet, you know. Doing his best to make amends for..” He stopped, turning a curious look on him. “Say, you’d know a thing or two about all that now, wouldn’t you? Was he really possessed by a demon?”

Eleven blinked. He supposed the confrontation with Mordegon had been rather more public this time around.

“Yes…” he answered haltingly, wondering briefly if a more official cover story existed that he’d somehow missed. But then, it wasn’t his job to protect Carnelian’s reputation. “Mordegon possessed him during the fall of Dundrasil.”

“You don’t say,” Dunstan mused, scratching his moustache. “So all those years, we were living in his shadow none the wiser.”

“Cobblestone was safe then,” he assured. “He didn’t know the village existed until I.. Well, until he asked where I hailed from.”

Erik had explained the mad King’s reasoning to him, once. After his grief, when he’d struggled to understand _why_ it had happened. He’d always been good at seeing all the angles.

Dunstan caught his eyes, something like a frown deepening the droop of his moustache. 

“Now don’t you be too hard on yourself. None of us could have known what would happen. We all survived; that’s the important thing. And now we’re enjoying closer ties with Heliodor than ever. Besides,” he chortled into his tankard. “Only a possessed man could think there’s anything evil about you.”

Heartened, Eleven nodded and took another drink.

“It’s gone, isn’t it?” Cole’s father- Peat- asked, drifting over. “The spirit that was possessing the King. You defeated him.”

“Yes,” Eleven said, meeting the man’s eyes and glad he could ease the edge of uncertainty he found there. “As is the being that was the source of his power.”

“The source of his power,” Peat repeated. “You mean the dark star?”

Eleven nodded.

“You mean _Erdwin’s Lantern_,” his wife corrected him. “That star’s meant to watch over us. What are we going to do now that it’s gone?”

Before Eleven could begin to diffuse what sounded like an argument in the making, a tug on his coat brought his gaze downward. Cole stared up at him with concerned eyes.

“Mum says it used to be the Luminary. Are _you_ going to become a star?”

His breath caught. Something in the boy’s fearful expression and somber tone, like he earnestly believed he would be gone forever in only a moment to take his place in the sky if only he willed it wrenched at his heart. Eleven blinked back the sudden sting in his eyes.

“No,” he assured, voice quiet and trying for a smile. “I’m not going to become a star.”

“But you _are_ going to protect us, aren’t you?”

Eleven glanced up with a frown and met the eyes of someone he didn’t know. He’d guess they were some kind of laborer from Heliodor that had come to aid Cobblestone. Whoever they were, their question drew everyone’s attention and Eleven belatedly realized he was surrounded by what looked like half the village.

“...I,” he hesitated, impossibly weighed down by all the expectant eyes on him. He cleared his throat and ducked his head. “The Dark One has been defeated. Erdrea is safe, now.”

Murmurs went around, and Eleven held his breath. That sort of evasion wouldn’t have been missed in Heliodor. Instead, he watched as his word was met with a round of considering nods.

“We heard you went up to Yggdrasil,” someone mentioned instead, instantly clearing the air of any lingering doubts.

He breathed and straightened up. “Yes, we did.”

A girlish sound from his left, apparently impressed. “Really? How? Don’t tell us you can fly now.”

Cetacea briefly appeared in his mind’s eye, but the last thing he needed was turn Her into a spectacle.

“No,” he said, relieved there was another explanation. “There was a magical bridge we used to reach it.”

“Was it exciting?” Cole again, practically bouncing on his heels now that he’d been assured that his hero wouldn’t disappear.

Eleven smiled down at him. “Yes, sometimes. I enjoyed travelling and seeing new places, but it was also difficult at times.”

An elbow nudged against his shoulder, a villager already halfway to drunk grinning at him with a wink. “Date any cute girls?”

Eleven fell back a step. “Er, no, I-”

“What I want to know is,” Another girl gushed, eyes lighting up. “Is Sir Hendrik single?”

“Uh... I don’t know.”

“What about that dashing, blue-haired friend of yours?”

Something in his gut lurched. “No,” he said swiftly. “He’s not-”

“Did you really win the last Masked Martial Arts tournament?” asked another voice from behind him.

Eleven whipped around, but couldn’t discern where the question had come from among the many awaiting his answer with equal anticipation.

“...Yes.”

“_And_ last year’s Sand National,” someone bragged, though he had little idea where they’d gotten _that_ bit of info from.

“I guess that’s only to be expected of the Luminary,” someone else was saying. It was all becoming too much to keep track of. “Hey, we should have a race here sometime. After all, this is where he learned to ride. Could outclass the Gallopolitans at the next race, too!”

Cheers and laughter went up around him. Everyone seemed so close. “Hey, d’you think you could show us-”

Eleven’s eyes closed. He breathed.

“_I_ want to see his sword.”

He didn’t even have time to refuse before-

“Ooh, what about some magic?”

“Um-” he was losing focus, faces blurring. 

“I heard you can summon lightning!”

His mind raced, turning away from attempts to formulate answers to devising a plan of escape.

“He can; it happened on the Tor last year.”

“Is it true that mark of yours lights up?”

More questions, but through the rush in his ears, he couldn’t hear them. His heart beat a frantic rhythm, no longer able to distinguish human speech through the noise washing over him. Something was wrong. His head felt hot. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t be sure if anything came out or if anyone even heard-

The world lurched.

Eleven glanced down to find that his feet were moving, and someone had a hold of his wrist. He blinked and he was running. Gemma ran ahead, pulling him along- pulling him _away_\- and the night air was everything he needed. It didn’t matter where they were going; he was just grateful to be leaving.

They didn’t stop until they reached his favorite place in the village. Then she dropped his hand and let him gather himself against the Yggdrasil root wrapped around the otherwise ordinary tree they’d always played beneath. Years of fond and carefree memories were stored up in that root, if only he dared to ask for them.

“You alright there, Elly?”

Eleven let the evening breeze brush through his hair then nodded, eyes opening to find Gemma facing away from him and looking to see if they’d been followed.

“Yes,” he said finally. “Thanks for the rescue.”

Gemma turned toward him with a smile. “Sorry about all that. There’s been talk of little else since we got out of the castle. Some wild stories got ‘round, and everyone’s been dyin’ to ask about it all.”

He noticed now that she’d changed into a different dress- something pink, ruffled, and not covered by an apron.

“You can go back to the party,” he offered. “I don’t want to ruin it for you.”

She shook her head and stepped closer, then crouched down next to him.

“I wanted to spend it with you,” she said. “It is our shared birthday, after all.”

It wasn’t really, but he’d already resolved not to mention it. Instead, Eleven nodded and leaned back again, arms coming up to drape over his knees. 

“...I’m sorry about what happened to you. If I’d known they’d locked you up in the castle...”

Gemma shook her head, hair swaying with the movement. 

“We made it through alright. Isn’t anyone that blames you for it. Anyway, you’re back now, and Cobblestone’s back on its feet, so we’re hopin’ you’ll stay with us.”

Stay with me, she meant. Eleven hesitated, thinking back to the promise he’d left Erik with and to the waves that called to him in his quietest moments. He let out a breath.

“For awhile, at least.”

Her smile fell to the grass. “But not forever.”

It was nearly a question.

“No,” he agreed, voice soft. “Not forever.”

He wished he couldn’t see the heartbreak in her eyes, wished he were selfless enough to promise her that he’d stay, but his heart belonged to a lonely shore lost to time.

She moved, and Eleven realized too late that it wasn’t just to sit closer to him. Her hair fell into his face, and his heart leapt into his throat as soft lips pressed against his mouth. She even smelled like the flower she resembled- a subtle, spring-like fragrance that promised nothing but sweetness.

It may have tempted him once, but he’d already fallen into the sea.

“Not even for me?” she whispered, too close, the words almost a plea.

Eleven took hold of her shoulders and eased her back, watching as her eyes widened. “I… I’m sorry, Gemma, but I’ve already… there’s…”

“...Someone else?” she guessed, eyes lowering.

He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

Gemma inhaled, sounding like the breath between all the fragments of her heart that have chipped away. “Where is she?”

Goddess, but she sounded so miserable that his own heart threatened to crack apart alongside hers. As though it had any right. But he’d never wish to hurt her like this, and selfishly hoped this wouldn’t be what drove them apart.

“...He’s on his way to Sniflheim to reunite with his sister.”

She stilled, head coming up. “‘His’?”

He had an inkling that maybe he’d made a mistake in mentioning it, but Erik was never going to stay a secret for long. He dipped his head in the barest of nods.

Her expression crumpled then, and for the second time in as many timelines, she was up and sprinting away just as the first of her tears began to fall.

Eleven watched her go, then pulled his knees closer and dropped his head onto them with a groan. Home for all of an hour, and he’d already managed to lose his best friend. For all he might not be darkspawn, he still seemed deceptively skilled at inadvertently destroying the things he loved.

With a heavy heart, Eleven simply watched as night fell over Cobblestone in earnest- a darkening overcast that left only the glow of lantern light untouched. Distant shadows danced in the lights, and never had he felt so utterly disinclined to join them.

Something had changed in the time he’d been gone, and the longer his thoughts prodded at those differences, the more he began to suspect that it wasn’t the _village_ that had changed.

“You just going to sulk there all night?”

Eleven lifted his head.

Despite her tone, Amber’s expression was soft as she made her way over.

“Come on, now,” she said, offering out her hand like he was all of six years old again. “Up you get.”

He took it and let her pull him to his feet. While he’s been taller than her for a good few years now, it still always managed to surprise him when he noticed.

“Sorry,” he said automatically, dusting off his coat. “Gemma and I just…”

“I know, love. She’s already told me all about it. Said I’d probably find you out here if it got too late.”

Eleven straightened, wariness creeping into his voice. “...What did she tell you?”

Her brows rose. “Well, there was something about you having a _boy_friend, for one thing.”

He ducked his head, face heating. “Do you think she’ll be…?”

Amber hummed, hands going to her hips a moment, then dropping. “Well, she did have her heart set on you for a good while there. It’s no surprise she’s so upset.”

He grimaced, wondering just how long he’d gone without knowing. It all seemed so obvious now. 

“But…” she continued, looking him over. “You two have been friends practically since birth. It’ll take some time and she’ll need space, but I’m sure she’ll come around.”

Eleven let out a long breath. “I hope you’re right.”

His mum chuckled. “Of course I am. Now, you’ve had a long day. Let’s get you home.”

* * *

He barely saw Gemma over the next few weeks as tourists began to trickle into the village and take up increasing amounts of his time. He hadn’t minded them too much at first; they seemed to be mostly curious folk interested in seeing him, shaking his hand, and asking one of the dozen or so questions he’d already answered for his fellow villagers. Tiring encounters to be sure, but mostly manageable.

At least until there were so many almost every day that Dunstan stepped in to organize ‘tours’ of their tiny village, with the final stop off being the house he shared with his Mum for a quick meet of sorts.

Or that was the idea, anyway. 

Eleven had never truly grasped Erik’s distaste for nobility until a pair of them arrived at his door and breezed through polite introductions as though that simple courtesy were tacit permission to cross the threshold in a successful exploit of Cobblestone’s near-tireless capacity for accommodation.

Two years on the road rubbing elbows with seven other people had eventually broken Eleven of that particular trait, but his mother bent as he would have once, and bade him to see to their guests. He stared after them and very slowly closed the door.

Eleven set about serving tea while Amber got their uninvited guests settled around the hearth, then turned a chair on its legs and straddled it. His arms crossed over the back, and he pretended not to see the look his mum sent him out of the corner of his eye. If he couldn’t outwardly express his displeasure, then he could at least make it known.

“So,” the husband of the pair started, fidgeting. “We were interested in hearing about this journey of yours.”

Of course they were. Eleven suppressed a sigh.

“It was long and difficult,” he said evenly, not of a mind to be particularly forthcoming. “I relied a great deal on my friends.”

He caught the other half of the couple capturing Amber’s attention to gossip in a low tone.

“Hah,” the nobleman said, raising the teacup to his lips. “Every bit as modest as they said you were. But surely, you can’t deny the heroic feat that was culling the Lord of Shadows and ridding Erdrea of the threat of the Dark Star.”

Eleven rubbed his forehead. Nothing about his journey had felt nearly so grand as people made it out to be and he was growing tired of pretending it was. 

“I spent the last leg of my journey very ill and stressed about letting the world fall to darkness or losing any more of my friends. It was quite unpleasant.”

A faint, nervous laugh met his response, and the man fell silent. A touch of guilt niggled at him for dragging down that avenue of conversation with a slightly exaggerated account of how the last few months had gone. But really, he found that the longer people went on about his various ‘heroics’, the less he felt worthy of any sort of praise or admiration.

“Oh, but the poor dear isn’t yet married?” The noblewoman was asking Amber, voice rising in an over-exaggerated fashion he knew was meant to draw attention away from the conversation that had just ended.

The woman’s hand had gone to her collar, eyes wide and looking as though the simple fact he hadn’t already married in the scant month and a half since saving the world was the greatest shock Erdrea had ever known.

Her husband simply watched him, and Eleven decided that staring back was perfectly acceptable behavior under the circumstances.

Eighteen- or seventeen- years old, and already he wanted to retire from the world.

“No, not yet,” his mum told her, taking a sip of tea. “We’re hopin’ he finds someone soon, though.”

He had to admire the polite return for the rather vague untruth that it was, even while he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

“That’s too bad. Do you know if he’s interested in older women?”

Eleven’s eyes snapped to the woman with an incredulous stare. She could have been asking about the weather for all the ease with which she’s posed an otherwise invasive, personal question. Amber coughed, clearing her throat like she’d very nearly choked on her tea.

“My daughter is a handful of years older and quite lovely to boot,” the noblewoman went on, unconcerned. “Not very lucky in love I’m afraid, but perhaps that’s something they have in common.”

If common _decency_ would permit him to mash his hand all over his face, he’d no longer have discernible features.

“Thank you for the offer,” he cut in finally, before his mum was forced to indulge her any further. “But I’m afraid it’s getting late, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Oh, but we haven’t even finished our tea…” the woman said, exchanging a look with her husband.

The nobleman nodded, putting on a friendly smile. “We’d just like a few more minutes of your time.”

“You’ve overstayed your welcome,” Eleven said flatly, eyes hard. “Please leave.”

“But-”

He decided right then that he wasn’t having any of it and raised his voice to match. “Showman!”

The door slammed open. He found satisfaction in the way the pair of nobles jumped in their seats, turning to find the broad-chested MMA fight standing in the doorway, tongue lolling and cracking his neck for effect. Eleven smothered a smile in the crook of his arm.

“We’ll go,” the nobleman agreed quickly, setting his teacup down. His wife followed suit. “We’re sorry to have disturbed you.”

They scurried out, ducking past his new bodyguard as much as the doorframe would allow. Eleven gave him a nod and watched the fighter leave, closing the door with far more care than he’d opened it with.

Eleven sighed, pillowing his head onto his arms and felt suddenly very, very tired.

“...You know that wasn’t very nice,” his mum chided after a moment.

He shrugged, then stood and stretched before his eyes could close and convince him to stay put for the rest of the night. He moved instead to clean up the leftover dishware. The sooner that was done, the sooner he could rest.

“Neither were they.”

Amber followed with the kettle tray. “Still…”

He shook his head and deposited the dishes into the sink. “They don’t care, Mum. They don’t care who I am or what I want. No one wants to hear about how I was sick for three months or how hard it was. All they want to hear is how exciting my adventure was, and what sort of _power_ I have.”

He paused, shoulders dropping. “Or throw their daughters at me. I’m not sure which is worse.”

Amber hummed. “It does make me wish that man of yours was around. You still haven’t told me much about him, you know. What was his name again?”

Eleven rolled his eyes, but his mood lightened as it always did whenever he thought about him. 

“Erik. And I promise I’ll introduce you as soon as he comes around.”

She sniffed in that disapproving way of hers as he moved past her finish tidying up- then jumped with a yelp when the _snap_ of a towel connected with his backside.

“Mum!”

“What was that nonsense sitting backward like that?” She demanded, hand on her hip. “I raised you with better manners than that. Don’t tell me that boy’s been a bad influence on you.”

He fended her off with a wave, retreating from the kitchen area. Admittedly, Erik did have a habit of sitting like that, but he wasn’t going to tell her as much.

“I’m just tired,” he said, flopping onto his bed and throwing an arm over his face. “I wanted to live in peace when I returned. Now I have to deal with these tourists treating me like some prize horse.”

She sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, love. …I’ll have a chat with Dunstan about all this tomorrow, I think. See if we can’t put an end to these visits for a short while.”

Eleven hummed, doubtful she’d be successful, but wouldn’t stop her trying. He shuffled under the covers with a yawn and let his thoughts wander as Amber finished in the kitchen and began to settle down for the night.

Erik had surely made it to Sniflheim by now. Was Mia awake? Where might they be headed now..?

He awoke to the tantalizing smell of frying sausage.

“Had a chat with Dunstan,” his mum said as soon as she spotted him sitting up. “Told him what happened last night and that he wasn’t to schedule any more of those tours of his until you were good and ready.”

Eleven yawned and idly wondered how on Erdrea she’d managed that. He wasn’t ignorant to the fact that the village was turning a tidy profit from the influx of visitors.

“That’s great, Mum,” he said, managing to sound not even half as impressed as he really was. He flattened his hair out a bit. “Thanks.”

“Made you breakfast.” 

A plate plopped down on the table across the room. He eyed it, stomach rumbling but increasingly mindful of the weight he’s been gradually putting on for the past few months. No amount of exercise seemed to be helping.

“Thanks, but... I’m not hungry.”

Amber turned away from the stove to look him over with a frown. “What are you on about? Why, I heard your stomach growling just moments ago!”

Eleven grimaced; weeks of evading questions still left him a poor liar. “I, er- just think I’ve been eating a bit much lately…”

She clicked her tongue. “Well that’s not right at all. You’ve been all but skipping lunch lately with all the tourist mess. Not to mention eating half as much at dinner, lately. ...Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” he assured with a smile that didn’t look like it managed any level of persuasion if her raised brows were anything to go by. His eyes dropped to his stomach. It looked worryingly larger when he was at rest.

Steps across the stone floor announced her approach. A hand came up to touch his forehead in a familiar gesture, lingering there a moment before dropping.

“Well you feel fine, at least. And I’ve always struggled to put any sort of weight on you.” She sighed. “Let’s see it, then.”

Eleven froze, but her eyebrows only rose in their expectancy until they nearly disappeared beneath her hair cap.

“Well go on. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

She was wrong about that, but he wasn’t about to tell her so. Eleven lifted his shirt halfway, taking care to obscure the awful scar in the center of his chest. He fought to keep still as Amber frowned at his stomach. It was less obvious when he stood straight, but sat like this, he could only feel hopelessly and incurably bloated.

“I-I’ve been trying to exercise more,” he defended. “But I can’t seem to work it off.”

She hummed. “That’s certainly odd. And you’ve been eating less, too. Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say it looks like you’re-” She cut herself off, blinking. “You’re…”

She looked him over, watched something in her eyes change as she sucked in a sharp breath and braced herself against his nightstand like she was worried she might fall over. 

“..Oh, my.”

Dread pitted his stomach. He dropped his shirt and reached for her. She looked dangerously pale, gaze locked on his midsection. “..Mum?”

She blinked. Blinked again. Then blinked several more times in rapid succession. She didn’t look quite all right.

“I… I need to sit down,” she said finally, and let him lead her over to the table still set with his uneaten breakfast.

“You’re going to eat that later,” she told him in a tone that suggested there wouldn’t be any arguments on the matter. At least she seemed to regain a bit of her color once she was settled into a chair with a cup of water. “But first- first, I think we’re due for a very _long_ talk.”

She waved loosely to the other side of the table. “Go on, sit down.”

With a flash of unease, Eleven sat.

Amber braced her elbows on the table, fingers flying to her temples. “I… I can’t believe we have to talk about this.”

“Mum…” he said, hands nearly shaking as dreadful anticipation welled in his gut. “What’s going on?”

She fretted a moment, and he was reminded of the last time she’d looked so out of sorts. That conversation had been quite literally life-altering. “Oh, how do I put this… Well, I guess there’s only one place to start.”

Her chin rose, and he watched her take several halting breaths, frowning after each one.

“Now… I know it’s not really my business, but I have good reason to ask: when was the last time you were intimate?”

Eleven stopped breathing.

He stared mutely, unable to even begin to think of a response. Through the shock, the sinking realization that she apparently knew he wasn’t... _innocent_ anymore began to drown out all else.

She waited, then tipped her head and that fractional shift in the frozen world around him shattered everything into motion once again. Suspended between disbelief and crippling embarrassment, his tongue failed to produce anything intelligible.

“Guh…”

Her arms dropped to the table. “Oh, come now. It was bound to happen sooner or later. I don’t want any details, I just need to know when it happened.”

“Why?” he asked finally, voice cracking on the word. ..Which he belatedly realized was a confession all on its own. His face heated.

She shook her head. “I’ll tell you once I’m sure. Now don’t go making this harder than it has to be, or we’ll be here all day.”

The words _can’t it wait_ died before he could give them voice. She was serious, and he would never be ready.

“...A month and a half ago.” Heliodor, he didn’t say, but knew she heard it anyway. His eyes dropped to the table, wishing he could sink beneath it and never be seen again.

He still felt her eyes on him, evaluating.

“That doesn’t seem right,” she said finally. “You said you were sick for three months… Sorry love, just one more: were you intimate anytime before you fell ill?”

His head snapped up, heart dropping into his stomach. “What would that have to do with…?”

She nodded, and Eleven inwardly cursed.

Amber took a breath, opened her mouth, then closed it. Nerves ate away at his insides.

“You know that you’re… different from other men your age,” she said at last.

His palms slicked with sweat.

“...Yes,” he said with difficulty, still not able to meet her eyes. He’d forgotten _she_ would know that.

“I probably should have told you about that long before now,” she confessed. “It just didn’t seem to be troubling you and well, there just wasn’t an easy way to go about it. I _had_ hoped that you would wait until you were married, but I see the foolishness in that now. And well, now you know, so I suppose there’s a bit less to explain.”

Eleven frowned, stomach twisting as he recognized she was working her way around to an unpleasant topic. Something to do with something intimate, and he found he’d rather deal with a hundred nobles than have this talk.

Her hands folded together tightly. “Now, love. You know I’d always hoped you’d turn out nice and ordinary. Make a life here in the village and marry a nice girl. Be happy in all the ways you should be.”

He nodded. He did know.

Her mouth managed a sad smile. “But… life doesn’t always happen the way we want it to, and sure enough, destiny swept you away.”

The knot in his stomach twisted impossibly tighter.

She chuckled, though he could tell it was forced- too weak to be genuine. “You know, I’d always thought we’d be having the opposite of this conversation when it came time, but just goes to show what I know.”

“Mum, please.” He couldn’t handle this much longer. “Is there something wrong with me?”

He’d worried that first night with Erik, on the end of a strange look, but they’d worked it out in the end. But then, Erik wasn’t that much older than himself. Maybe there was something neither of them had known?

Amber let out a short breath. “Well no, I wouldn’t say that. But it _is_ unexpected, and if you were anyone else, I’d say it was impossible.”

Insofar as assurance, it wasn’t much. Much of his journey had been a new foray into increasing avenues of ‘impossible’- up to and including time travel. But that was over now, and he wasn’t sure he could take many more life-altering surprises.

“Just _tell me_.”

“Yes, alright, I’m sorry- it’s just-” Eleven watched her take a moment to compose herself before meeting his eyes.

“I… Eleven, love, when I took you in, I was told you’d never sire children. You were er, _missing_ a part for that. But it’s possible- and spirits only know how- that you may have the ability to conceive.”

Silence, ringing loudly through his ears and echoing faintly as his mind shattered. For several minutes, he could only stare and blink through the fading edges of his vision.

“Are- are you saying I’m…” He couldn’t say it. It _was_ impossible. _Should be_ impossible. “I’m not- that’s… but... how?”

Amber patted his arm. “Now I already gave you _that_ talk years ago. I think we both know the answer, love.”

_Erik against his back, hands sliding around his stomach. Lips at his shoulder, his voice an undercurrent to the cool touch of the waves lapping at his feet._

_“I want to know how you feel.”_

“Oh, Goddess,” he moaned, fingers burying into his hair. He felt hot, and everything seemed just a little out of focus. He was positive he wouldn’t be able to stand even if he wanted to, with legs and arms that quaked.

“No,” he said. He couldn’t think. “We- I can’t- we don’t know for sure. There’s- it could be something else, right?”

“I suppose it could be,” she said slowly, doubt clear in her voice. “But the signs are all there. You’d have to let a doctor check you over. Should do anyway, as it happens. Don’t want anything going wrong.”

His stomach turned, the smell of breakfast newly nauseating in a way he was too familiar with. He pushed the plate away with a grimace.

“How-” he swallowed carefully, heard his own voice growing distant. “Is there a way we can know?”

Amber hummed shortly. “Well, let’s see now. If you are, then you’re about... four and a half months along? Goodness, half-way already.” 

A large part of him still couldn’t believe this was something they were talking about. Spots began to grow in his vision. His mind felt ready to split apart under the strain.

“You might start feeling it move about soon. Babies have a tendency to kick, you know.”

And there, that word- it was all he could take.

He came to what seemed like moments later, peeling himself off the table through a haze as his mum fussed over him.

“Are you alright? Here, have some tea.”

Eleven accepted the tea with a bleary thanks, using the heat seeping into his palms to anchor himself if nothing else.

She settled back across from him, expression soft. “I’m sorry, love. Should have known you wouldn’t take it well. Comes as a bit of a surprise even to-”

“_Mum_,” he said, voice rough as his eyes closed. 

No matter which way that sentiment ended, he wasn’t sure he could stand to hear it. Not when he could feel a whirl of uncertain thoughts and frightening possibilities in the back of his mind, all hinged on a ‘what if’ he didn’t dare acknowledge more than he already had.

To her credit, she didn’t press, and through the silence of the next several minutes wherein he felt around the edges of those thoughts and mapped out all possible paths leading to them, the quiet itself began to feel oppressive. Like suddenly there was nothing else to talk about.

Eleven downed his tea, then pushed himself to stand. His arms trembled with the effort, but his legs held.

“I’m going out.”

Amber nodded, eyes lowering to her tea. “Alright. Get some air, and we can talk whenever you’re ready.”

Deciding that was about as much as he could hope for, Eleven pulled on his coat, baldric and twin Swords of Light. He hadn’t seen a monster in months of course, and didn’t expect to now, but taking them along was more for the safety of the blades themselves rather than his own. Though the familiar shape and weight of them did afford him some comfort.

“Don’t push yourself too hard, now.”

If there was an additional, unspoken warning layered into his mother’s bid for caution, he pretended not to hear it.

* * *

The roaring beauty of Cobblestone Falls remained the most enchanting place in Erdrea.

Cascading falls fed into a surprisingly shallow pool, water flow broken up by stepping stones of grass alight with an array of wildflowers. The water edged over natural lips in the pool, then fed into a steep waterfall in the split between surrounding cliff sides. The effect lent the space an air of a walled off oasis, backdropped by a constant rush that echoed off the cliffs and drowned out wayward thoughts. 

Given its relative seclusion away from the village, he didn’t expect anyone would look for him there. 

But neither did he expect to find _Gemma_ settled against a tree trunk in the corner of the tiny grove, blonde head bent over her lap as she worked. Naturally, she looked up just as soon as he’d decided to try and slip by on the little-known path to the Emerald Coast.

The moment seemed to last an eternity, rooted in place as silent questions swam between them. Then her eyes flicked to his swords and dropped, turning back to the flash of a needle between her fingers.

“What do you want?” Otherwise brittle words softened by a sigh, like she’d resigned herself to his presence.

Still, he hardly moved, worried he might discomfort her into leaving if he dared to approach. Small wonder he’d barely caught sight of her in the weeks following their last conversation if she’d taken to coming all the way out here.

Eleven briefly considered making an excuse to be on his way. He’d come here seeking solace after all, but now found himself with a possible chance to salvage things between them- hopefully before it was too late. The worries he’d left home with seemed less immediate, now.

It took him several moments to land on words to try.

“Gemma, I’m-”

“Don’t,” she said, a halting note to her voice as she set her stitching down and stared out at the falls. It felt like picking up the threads of a conversation they’d had only yesterday rather than several weeks ago. She already knew what he was going to say.

“You don’t- it’s no one’s fault who they fall in love with. I know that. It’s just… I don’t know, made me wonder if I spent all those years keepin’ it all bottled up inside- if it would have mattered if I’d said something earlier, ‘for you left. ...Or if I never had a chance at all.”

He swallowed, eyes skimming the grass and water separating them, not entirely sure he wouldn’t make this fragile air between them worse by simply speaking, but unwilling to not at least try. This was _Gemma_, and this was always how they’d gone about things ever since they were children. She was being honest about how she felt, and now it was his turn to do the same- no matter how hard it was.

“I- I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner,” he said finally, taking a single, lurching step forward. “I don’t know how I would have reacted if you’d said something to me two years ago, but.. I know that when you-” he cleared his throat, ears burning. “When you er- kissed me at the party, I- even if I hadn’t met Erik, I don’t think I could have promised to stay.”

Her shoulders slumped and Eleven held his breath. For several moments, there was only the noise of the falls between them and distracting glints of sunlight off the water reflecting off wet stone.

“I guess I should have known that,” she said finally. “Even when we were kids, you used to beg Chalky and Grandad to follow the traders out to Heliodor. Always thought you were mad, but I admired you for it, too. I-” her voice broke. “I just- I just wish I’d been brave enough to go _with_ you.”

His stomach dropped, heavy with a feeling that this conversation was two years in the making. He moved for her, crouching down to greet wet, avoidant eyes.

“Gemma,” he said, resisting the will to reach out and cover the fists clenched into her skirt. “I never blamed you for staying.”

“I know that,” she said miserably. “But you’ve changed so much since you left, and I wasn’t there for any of it. You even talk different than you used to. It’s- it’s almost like you’re a whole different _person_ sometimes.”

His breath caught, any and everything else he’d thought to say leaving him entirely. He knew he’d changed on some level, but was it really that noticeable?

“...I didn’t mean to,” he managed eventually. “But, if you’re referring to the way I talk to the tourists, then you should know that they have… certain expectations of what the Luminary should be and act like. I’m pretty sure I fail to meet those standards more often than not. But what’s really important to me, Gemma, is that we’re still friends.”

Eleven held out his hand and watched her slowly uncurl her fingers to reach out and take it. Hope bloomed bright in his chest.

“Well, of course we are.” Gemma sniffed through a teary smile. “‘N now that you mention it, I don’t know why I thought I’d ruined everything over a silly thing like that.”

He smiled and pulled her to her feet, then stepped back as she dusted herself off..

“...Well, I guess I’d best be gettin’ these pants back to their proper owner.” Gemma bent to retrieve her handiwork, then straightened with something close to a real smile. “You came out here to get away from it all, right? I’ll make sure no one comes lookin’ for you. Least I can do after everything.”

Eleven nodded, lips parting to express some level of gratitude, but instead lost the breath to a jolt in his stomach.

Time slowed, and the deafening rush through his ears this time drowned out even the waterfalls. He watched Gemma’s brows come together in increments.

“...Yeah, thanks,” he forced himself to say, hoping she couldn’t see the tremble beginning in his fingertips. “And tell- tell my mum I- that… that I‘ll talk to her when I get back.”

Gemma’s smile faded to a puzzled frown. “That you’ll talk…?”

Ice slid down his spine. Eleven nodded. “I’ll see you back home.”

She turned to go, then hesitated, glancing back. “You know you can talk to me, too.”

He gave her a wan smile. Whatever was holding him together felt ready to fail at a moment’s notice. “I know. And I will. Thank you.”

She nodded, apparently satisfied, and Eleven waited for her to disappear up the path and into the thick of the foliage before he pressed a hand to his stomach and let himself slowly sink to his knees.

He stared mutely at his rippling reflection as the weight of everything he was holding back threatened to break him apart. 

Maybe, he decided, he’d imagined it. Could have just been a hunger pang. Eleven shifted to sit back against the same tree he’d found Gemma under, and worked to collect himself as he stared past the waterfalls cascading down from the river above.

The same river Chalky had fished him out of as an infant.

His breaths quickened, gaze slowly shifting from the falls to his traitorous stomach. He lifted his shirt and watched his entire hand quake as he raised it with renewed reluctance to touch. But if nothing happened, he reasoned, then he’d imagined it.

His fingertips touched first. The skin was warm and too smooth, too rounded- stretched in a way that could only be unnatural. Slowly, the rest of his hand settled over it.

Nothing. 

Nothing, nothing, nothing. 

He let out a shaky breath. It was something else. Had to be. He’d just go to a doctor and whatever lingering illness plaguing him would get sorted out. But it wasn’t because he was--

Movement.

Movement under his hand, beneath his _skin_ like something turning over--

Eleven tore his hand away with a hard, audible sound just shy of a shout. His pulse beat a frantic tempo in his chest and rushed between his ears with a piercing shrill. Terror held him captive, any and all strength he had abandoning him utterly. 

His chest hurt. He couldn’t breathe. His entire body shook outside of his control. For several, agonizing eternities, a spreading sense of alarm wondered what it would feel like to become a star- if this was it. Tears burned his eyes and blurred his vision, losing sight of the world through a lens of shattered color.

His hands gripped at the grass for something to hold onto, trying desperately to feel the blades between his fingers, dirt beneath his nails. Like maybe if he held on strongly enough, he could stay- but it was a strength he was losing fast. From somewhere overhead, an indistinct voice began to sing.

Something touched him.

Eleven’s eyes snapped open, the surprise of a foreign, external sensation just enough to drag his mind outside of itself long enough to blink wetly at the source.

A three-pronged leaf lay perfectly over the swell of his stomach. He stared at it, at the familiar shape of it as recognition broke through- and with it, clarity.

_Yggdrasil_.

He let his head fall back, and gradually the rest of the tension in his body faded. He breathed and watched the clouds drift by overhead.

Of course. How else could this have happened? Like a distant snatch of a dream, he could even hear Her.

A new leaf. A new life. A _gift_.

“No,” he said shortly as though She could hear his protest, the word breaking on a hitched breath. “I can’t. _Erik._”

Goddess above. _Erik_.

Eleven squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his palms into them until they hurt.

He couldn't think about it. 

He couldn't _stop_ thinking about it.

For a while he simply lay there, staring blankly while the breeze tugged at his hair and his mind looped back on itself with sheer incredulity. But the strong ridges of the leaf resting beneath his fingertips remained.

And in four more months, there would be a child. 

His child.

_Erik’s_ child. 

A child whose very existence he’d be hard-pressed to explain. Who would be completely and utterly dependent on him. There were more pressing, practical concerns along that vein, but through it all, his focus continuously circled back to Erik- how to tell him, how he'd react- assuming he'd even believe him to start with. 

Struck cold by the realization that Erik would have every reason to doubt him, because even if he explained everything about himself, their only union was from a time Erik didn't remember.

He stayed like that, lost in thought for hours until the sun had set and Yggdrasil’s benevolent light outshone the nearby stars. Until his thoughts had settled enough to watch the sedate glow of the fireflies floating about in a showcase of their ambivalence for the profound ache in his skull- the result of a mind torn down and reordered, no longer quite the same.

Through it all, there were only two things he’d worked out for sure:

He couldn’t stay, and he needed help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand there it is, the reveal we all knew was coming. Next stop- Tree Mom. I hope this chapter was worth the wait; it was a big one that did a lot of heavy lifting. I will do my best to have the next one out much more quickly if at all possible!


End file.
